


Nature's Call

by indistinct_echo



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Omorashi, Sharing a Bed, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:16:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23811433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indistinct_echo/pseuds/indistinct_echo
Summary: When Dan goes camping, all sorts of limits get tested.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 18
Kudos: 104





	Nature's Call

They pile out of the borrowed minivan. Grabbing their overnight packs from the cluttered trunk, they divvy up tents and cookware as PJ pulls a wrinkled, printed map from his pocket. There’s no cellular service here; no videos, no emails, no looming deadlines to bombard them over this weekend holiday. Just nature, clean air, and each other.

PJ tries to orient the map to match their view from the campground’s parking lot. Dan knows their campsite is probably a few hundred metres from their current location; Phil had insisted on a spot near the water, specifically near the winding river that runs across the far end of the forest. Dan’s glad he chose to wear joggers today, eyeing Phil’s skin-tight black jeans. _That’s not going to be comfortable._

His suspicions seem to prove themselves correct when Phil stops every few minutes to pull at the back of his jeans when they slide down his hips. Dan tries not to look each time the thin strip of Phil’s pants begins to show. But with the massive rucksack on Phil’s shoulders causing his shirt to ride up, it’s almost impossible for Dan’s eyes not to be drawn to the exposed, milky skin and, by proximity, to the increasingly visible pants that are cutting off his view.

Phil reaches with one hand to pull on his jeans again. The items he’s carrying – the tent he and Dan will share, the large sleeping bag curled under one arm, and the drawstring bag filled with sweets he insisted were necessary for late-night campfires – noisily tumble to the ground.

Chris and PJ stop walking, and Phil begins to gather his things. Dan steps forward and grabs the tent before Phil has a chance to sling it over his shoulder, as he had earlier in the afternoon, saying “It’s no problem, really” and flashing Dan a wide smile that made him too flustered to argue.

“Hey,” Phil protests when he sees that Dan has the tent. “I can take it.”

“Sure, you can.” Dan snorts. “Anyways, we’re sharing, so it’s only fair if I carry it the rest of the way.”

Dan straightens his back and watches Phil glance at Chris and PJ. Chris is carrying both his and PJ’s belongings as PJ studies the map, doing his best to navigate for the group, and it clicks. Dan rolls his eyes; leave it to Phil to become insecure over something that’s most definitely doing Chris’ back in.

“I know you _can_ carry it, dumbass,” he says. “I just want to help, okay?”

Phil’s eyes snap back to Dan. He’s still crouched close to the forest floor which means his eyelashes appear long and dark when he looks up through them. Dan suddenly finds it hard to breathe. Phil raises his eyebrows but quickly smooths his face into a sweet smile.

“Thanks.”

He sounds so sincere that Dan mentally fumbles until he stutters out a soft, “You’re welcome.”

The self-doubt is immediate – _Was that too earnest? Does it make him sound old and pretentious? Nobody says “you’re welcome” these days unless they’re being sarcastic_ – but then Phil beams at him, and Dan’s heart races for an entirely different reason.

Phil stands, and the four of them continue towards where they’ll make camp. They walk in pairs, and their indistinct chatter mixes with the sounds of birds and bugs flying around them. When they finally hear the faint babble of the stream, they slowly come to a stop.

Dan walks closer to PJ to get a better look at the map. Phil comes up behind him and rests a hand on his shoulder, looking over it so that he can see too. He stands on his toes, and Dan feels a surge of pride; his height is the one thing that gives him an edge on Phil, the one aspect where he has the advantage in their incessant teasing of each other. So, Dan rolls his shoulders back and tries to stand with proper posture on the uneven ground.

Phil notices. His hand darts from Dan’s shoulder to his hip where he pinches the skin through the material of his shirt. Dan squeaks out a yelp.

“You little shit,” Phil whispers in his ear.

Dan does his best to mask the shudder that runs through him. He turns his head toward Phil and feigns his most innocent expression, but, when Phil doesn’t seem to buy the act, Dan can’t help but break out into a shit-eating grin. Phil appears unimpressed, but he leaves his hand on Dan’s hip – a sensation of which Dan is acutely aware – until the group breaks apart to walk the last couple of minutes to their destination.

Dan and Phil struggle to put together their tent the same way they struggle with any physical, construction-based task. But, they do it together, and, other than the brief moment when Phil almost skewers Dan’s eye with a tent peg, it’s fun.

Chris and PJ finish with their tent first. They throw popcorn and heckle Dan and Phil on the many occasions that they err throughout the construction process. Phil lightly scolds them for wasting food and attracting bears. Dan is pretty-but-not-quite sure bears don’t live in England outside of the country’s handful of zoos, but he makes a mental note to not wander off on his own, nevertheless.

That plan is dashed when, as soon as both tents have been completed, Dan and Chris are sent to collect firewood. It’s nearly dusk, and the shadows lengthen as Dan walks in circles of increasing circumference away from camp. He looks for dried bark and wispy twigs, larger branches and even a couple of logs, looping back to Phil and PJ every couple of minutes where he and Chris make a pile with their finds.

And, when the stack is approximately chest-high, Phil takes some of the tinder and arranges it into a square supported by kindling. He’s bent over the fragile wood, and Dan thinks that it’s almost obscene how Phil’s ass is thrust into the air, how it shifts each time he moves a twig.

Chris lights the fire, and Phil expertly fans the flames with folded foil. PJ snags the rest of the roll from him so that he can prepare the food they brought with them in a small cooler.

When the flames hold steady and Phil stops requesting fresh firewood every few seconds, Dan sits down on a nearby log. Phil scoots away from the fire until his back hits the bark next to Dan’s legs.

“Worked up an appetite?” Phil asks, turning to face him. Dan’s gaze catches on the thin trail of sweat that glistens down Phil’s temple and barely hears him.

“Mmm, yeah,” Dan answers. His eyes flicker across Phil’s cheekbones, uncharacteristically red from being so close to the fire. Phil watches him and smirks. Dan rolls his eyes. “What about you?”

“I could eat.”

The way Phil says it is so _suggestive,_ and Dan just wants to punch the smug right out of his tone. He settles for tickling him, instead. Phil wriggles out of the way and is quick to grab Dan’s wrists before they can jab into his sides. Phil pins Dan’s arms to the ground, and Dan tries to twist out from underneath him.

“Oi, boys!” Chris shouts. “Save the tossing in the sheets ‘til we’re back to where we actually have sheets.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you,” Phil retorts, though he releases Dan’s wrists and offers out a hand.

Dan lets himself be pulled away from the ground, but, before he can get his feet beneath him, Phil drops his hand, and Dan falls back onto his ass. Dan can hear PJ chuckle in the background when he splutters out an indignant, “Hey!”

Phil just winks at him and spins around, walking over to PJ with a smile and an offer to help him with dinner.

Dan scowls and hopes his blush passes as a trick of the firelight. His proposal to help with the food is turned down as Phil and PJ work out a system of wrapping, cooking, and flipping their burgers on the ring of rocks that surround their fire, so he just sits on his log and watches. Chris sits down next to him and hands him a pint.

Even though he nurses the drink, it’s almost completely gone by the time the food is ready. He watches Phil, who had been impatiently pacing by the fire, reach close to the flames to retrieve the packets of foil.

“Be careful!” Dan yells in his direction. Phil turns his head towards him and smiles before grabbing a wrapped burger with his fingertips.

“Ah-ooh-ow- _hot!_ ” Phil drops the burger to the floor.

Dan rushes over to him. He grabs Phil’s hand, brings it close, and attempts to inspect his fingertips for damage while Phil giggles. Dan shushes him, despite feeling the muscles of his own mouth tug upwards. He drops Phil’s hand and takes a step back.

“You okay?” he asks, as though he hadn’t just checked to ensure that was the case.

Phil nods. “Yeah, I’m good.” He pauses. “Although I can’t say I’d be opposed if you wanted to kiss it better.”

Dan sucks in a breath. He knows he’ll get flustered if he lets himself think about that statement for even a moment, so, instead, he looks Phil in the eye as he takes his hand, unfurls the fingers with his thumb, and presses a kiss right in the middle of Phil’s palm.

Phil is wide-eyed and completely still. Dan feels a flutter in his chest – it’s nice to know he can, to some extent, _affect_ Phil if he really tries for it. And, maybe it’s not as effortless as it is when Phil catches _him_ off guard, but he’s proud enough of being able to breathe right now that he isn’t too concerned about not being as smooth as he’d like. Especially since it seems to have worked on Phil, as is.

“It’s for good luck,” Dan says, once the silence has gone on long enough that he starts to question his impulsivity. “Although you shouldn’t need luck if you use the tongs we brought specifically for this purpose.”

“Right, yeah,” Phil mumbles sheepishly, “I’ll get them.”

The remaining burgers are removed from the heat without further injury, and they eat their food in near silence until Chris belches loudly.

“Anyone else want a drink?” he says, pushing himself up from the ground and walking towards the cooler. He grabs four beers without waiting to hear their responses. The drinks heighten their drowsiness, and it’s not long before they collectively decide to clean up, put out the fire, and head into their respective tents.

They brush their teeth, one at a time, with their leftover water. Dan attempts to ignore the trickling water as it splashes against the ground. With each person, the pressure in his bladder becomes more intense. It’s perhaps his own fault for not thinking to relieve himself back when he was out collecting wood, but it’s too late to change that. He looks to the forest warily; he really doesn’t want to have to go _there_ right now.

Phil doesn’t seem to have any such qualms when he passes Dan the water bottle – their fingers briefly touching – and asks, “Can you put out the fire? I’ve got to pee real quick.”

“Sure thing,” Dan stammers, desperately trying not to imagine Phil with a hand on himself in the forest, all out in the open even if in the dark.

He looks at the water bottle in his hand and then back at the fire; it’s smaller now, mostly glowing embers and spotty patches of flame, but he switches the bottle out for a bucket someone must have filled up from the river earlier.

The sound of the bucket’s water as it’s poured over the fire is so much worse than that from the bottle. This water doesn’t trickle, it _gushes_ , and the hiss of the flames as they’re extinguished feels like a cruel reminder of the relief Dan would feel if he weren’t so afraid of the dark.

He’s plunged into that darkness when the fire fully dies off, but there’s barely enough time to be scared before Phil comes back carrying a torch that shines too brightly in Dan’s eyes.

“Hey,” Phil half-yells across the clearing, “you can borrow this” – he waves the torch – “if you need.”

Dan shakes his head, but waits until Phil is closer before he responds, “It’s fine, I don’t really fancy voluntarily walking into a dark forest full of non-human threats.”

Phil nods sagely. “That’s a good point, we wouldn’t want to attract any bears.”

 _Bears_ aren’t exactly what Dan’s afraid of, but it’s easier to admit to that than to say the shadows look like demons or that the forest seems sinister enough that it might be haunted by at least a few ghosts. It’s even easier to turn the whole thing into a joke.

“Yeah, bears aren’t really my type.”

He winks for good measure and then turns away from the bright beam that prevents him from seeing Phil’s reaction, ducking into their shared tent.

Phil follows. He stands the torch in the corner of the tent, and its light illuminates their shared space.

Dan studiously avoids looking out of the corner of his eye at Phil changing into pyjamas, choosing to instead roll out his sleeping bag. Phil does the same when Dan pulls off his own clothes, keeping his gaze low as he struggles with his massive sleeping bag.

Dan never particularly considered his own sleeping bag to be small, but it is a remnant of his early teenage years and may have been intended more for somewhat-lanky teenagers than for even taller almost-adults. He explains as much to Phil when he offhandedly comments that Dan must’ve grown quite a lot since its last use.

“It’s only for two nights,” Dan says, “it’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, but I have a better idea,” Phil insists. “Pass me the bag.”

Dan does, and Phil unzips both of their sleeping bags. He lays Dan’s in a long rectangle on the bottom of their tent – it doesn’t look quite so small when it’s spread out – and arranges his own sleeping bag on top.

“Tada!” he says when he’s done.

Dan looks between Phil and their makeshift bed on the ground.

“You want us to share?” he asks, somewhat incredulous.

“Yeah, it’ll be like a real sleepover!”

Dan doesn’t recall ever sharing a bed at a sleepover when it wasn’t absolutely necessary – and he certainly doesn’t remember _those_ occasions fondly – but he doesn’t mention that. This is a unique opportunity, and he isn’t going to ruin it by blabbing every thought that passes through his brain, especially since so few of them are in the realm of indisputably _platonic_.

They may get a bit flirty when teasing, but there’s a clear line in Dan’s mind between their jokes and the reality of their relationship that Dan does _not_ want to cross. Especially not while he’s sharing a tent with Phil and will be with him almost constantly for the next couple of days.

So, he tries to tamp down his smile and says, “Sure, sounds great.”

Phil beams back at him.

“A word of warning,” Dan teases, “I’m a bit of a cuddler.”

Phil doesn’t miss a beat.

“Good, you’ll keep me warm during the long English night,” he says, looking wistfully off into the distance and dramatically clutching his hands to his chest. Dan snorts.

Phil pulls back his sleeping bag and flops down into their bed. He lets out a loud sigh.

“Comfy?” Dan asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Would be if you were here,” Phil quips.

Dan rolls his eyes. “Alright, scoot over.”

Phil dutifully moves towards one side of the bed, and Dan gingerly sits down on the other. He leans back on his elbows and can feel Phil’s eyes on him as he stretches his legs down the length of the sleeping bag until he’s laid flat. He can feel the ache in his bladder as he moves, but, now that he’s horizontal, there is definitely no way he’s getting up.

“Alrighty then,” Dan says.

Phil’s eyes snap back into focus, and he flips the heavy blanket of the sleeping bag over them both. He takes off his glasses and places them on the ground by his head.

Despite Dan’s earlier warning, he doesn’t make any moves to cuddle. He is very aware of his limbs and his breathing and his racing thoughts as he lays next to Phil. It only gets worse when Phil reaches out a hand and fumbles with the torch until he finally finds the off switch.

It’s pitch black whether Dan keeps his eyes opened or closed, and he feels trapped. He tries to listen for Phil’s breathing to remind himself that he isn’t alone, that he isn’t entirely unprotected from the creatures that lurk in shadowy corners and dark crevices.

And, when Phil’s breathing evens out, Dan lets himself inch towards Phil’s warmth. He turns onto his side and curves as close around Phil as he dares given that he can’t see exactly where Phil’s body ends.

And, finally, late in the night, cocooned in a blanket that isn’t his and pressed against a body not his own, Dan sleeps.

-

The first sensation Dan feels when he wakes is warmth. That feeling is accompanied by a primal sort of relief, like all tension is draining from his body. He relaxes into it with a half-asleep moan. His entire body is buzzing. His toes curl with the sensation.

But then he feels the sticky wetness that surrounds his crotch, and his eyes fly open.

 _Oh, fuck_.

Dan’s bladder spasms, and the stream of piss feels more powerful now that he knows that’s what it is. His body immediately straightens with what’s likely either shock or fear, but the movement only worsens the damp patch on the front of his pyjamas.

He quickly rolls onto his back and tries to stop his release by will, even as he feels the wet warmth spread farther from his dick and drip down towards the blanket underneath. _The blanket!_

He quickly kicks off the blanket covering him, trying to prevent it from touching any already compromised material. He pushes it off onto the other side of the bed where Phil is still fast asleep.

 _Shit, he forgot about Phil_.

Not only did Dan wet himself while sleeping, but he did so when he wasn’t sleeping alone. He really doesn’t have time to worry about the ramifications of this whole _mess_ , desperately grabbing his hot, wet dick in a futile effort to prevent himself from further embarrassment.

When he’s pretty sure that it is safe to move, he slips up and out of bed to assess the damage. His pyjama bottoms and the lower half of his t-shirt are soaked through. It’s light enough in the tent that he can, somewhat unfortunately, see the two wet stains he’s left on the lower sleeping bag – one where he laid on his back and the other from when he must’ve leaked while still asleep and pressed against Phil.

He really, _really_ does not want to get closer to Phil to check for darkened, wet patches, so, instead, he quickly changes clothes and tosses his soiled ones in a plastic bag.

Dan looks back at Phil and wonders if he should wake him. But there isn’t really anything he can say to make the situation okay. He can’t exactly shake Phil awake and say, “ _Hey mate, sorry I pissed all over you in my sleep.”_ Maybe it’s better he just hope the damp spots dry or that Phil doesn’t notice.

He sighs. Whatever the best decision is, he doesn’t have the luxury of taking time to think it through.

Although the tent is fairly well-lit, Dan doesn’t think it is quite sunrise yet. He definitely doesn’t want to be still panicking when any of the others wake. He needs to get out, maybe go for a run or something. And, most pressingly, he needs to finish relieving himself, this time, preferably, somewhere deep in the woods where he doesn’t have any possible chance of fucking pissing on anyone.

What a fantastic start to the morning.

-

Dan’s mind stops racing only after what must be a couple of hours of running, jogging, and a whole lot of sitting on the ground with his head in his hands. He also occasionally screams into the forest. That helps, a bit.

He starts to make his way back to their camp when the sun is nearly overhead, and he feels his heartbeat quicken, the anxious thrum getting louder with each step. He tries to breathe through it. Nobody necessarily knows _anything_. Maybe the entire incident was just a nightmare – it certainly felt like one – and he sleepwalked into the middle of the forest. It’s not at all likely, Dan knows, but, right now, he’ll do anything to try and trick his brain into reducing the pressure in his chest and the lump in his throat.

When Dan sees their tents through the last few haphazard rows of trees, he subconsciously breathes a sigh of relief; the only people outside are Chris and PJ. But then the zipper of his tent begins to open, and Dan can feel his heart drop out through his stomach.

Phil, dressed in a brightly printed t-shirt and black jeans with his fringe swept across his forehead above his glasses, steps out of the tent. And, to Dan’s utter humiliation, he is not empty handed; he carries Dan’s now rolled-tight sleeping bag under one arm. _Fuck_.

Dan doesn’t know what to say or what to do, but he continues walking forward; some way or another, he has got to stop whatever horror is about to unfold.

But then Phil lifts his head and looks directly at him. Dan freezes. Phil raises his eyebrows and wears an expression that Dan can’t quite read, but he knows in his gut that he’s been found out. His chest heaves, and he doesn’t think he could move if he tried. He just stands there, looking as contrite and embarrassed as he feels, his gaze locked on Phil’s.

Phil is the first to look away, attention called elsewhere when Chris calls out to him. “What’s with the sleeping bag? Are you moving into our tent? We can always use another.”

Dan’s nerves are too frazzled to give much thought to what Chris could possible want ‘another’ for.

“Ah no,” Phil says, rubbing his free hand across the back of his neck. “I, uh, spilled some” – he gives Dan a long look – “ _Fanta_ on myself in my sleep.” He sounds embarrassed, but his expression is a clear challenge, like he’s daring Dan to disagree.

Dan’s heart pounds too loudly for him to even consider it. He’s completely shocked, and his tongue feels like it’s made of lead.

“Sucks, mate, how’d you manage to do that?” Chris asks.

Phil shrugs. “I don’t know, it must’ve gotten shaken up on the ride here or something because it seems to have just _overflowed_.”

Phil isn’t even looking at Dan anymore, but the teasing tone in his voice is evident. Dan blushes and desperately hopes the others don’t pick up on Phil’s innuendo.

“Wait,” PJ says, jumping into the conversation, “isn’t that Dan’s sleeping bag?”

Dan doesn’t think he imagines the fleeting panic that crosses Phil’s face before he manages a surprisingly convincing sheepish expression. “Uh, yeah, it is.”

Phil turns back to Dan, the twinkle in his eyes at full force. “I’m so, so sorry Dan, I didn’t mean to _spill_.”

Dan tries his best to hold a neutral expression. It’s surprisingly difficult because, for some strange reason, it’s not pure terror that he’s trying to keep hidden but laughter.

Phil, with his fucking innuendos and his teasing eyes and his commitment to this ridiculous cover-up story, somehow made Dan feel kind of okay for the first time this morning. Dan’s chest warms with something like affection.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, responding to Phil’s ‘apology’ – he has to keep up the charade, after all. But then he remembers what Phil is actually holding, and he blanches at the thought of Phil seeing his piss-stained sleeping bag in the full light of day. He tries to think quickly. “Let me clean it, it’s my sleeping bag.”

“Oh, but I was the one to get it wet.” Phil’s eyes are wide and innocent, but Dan knows he’s full of shit.

“Hm, is that so?”

Phil rolls his eyes, but Dan can see the corners of his lips twitch.

“PJ?” Phil calls. PJ turns to look at him. “Keep Dan occupied for a bit, please. I’m going to go wash this” – he holds up the sleeping bag – “in the river.”

“Sure thing,” PJ says, easily.

Dan narrows his eyes. He’s not going to be deterred that easily.

“Make sure he doesn’t get dehydrated,” Phil tacks on as an afterthought.

Dan barks out a laugh before he can stop himself. There’s a certain level of _audaciousness_ to Phil’s teasing, and Dan is surprised to find that he doesn’t quite mind. If this is all of the flack he’s going to get for what happened this morning, he doesn’t really have any room to complain.

-

True to his word, PJ keeps Dan busy, first by handing him a plate of runny eggs and toast which Dan accepts gratefully; he’s pretty sure his heartbeat is still too erratic to do something as calm and careful as cooking over a fire.

Once they’ve all eaten – breakfast for Dan and lunch for everyone else – and the fire’s been put out, Dan cleans up the doused, wet wood in the pit. He then joins Chris and PJ to bask in the sunlight filtering through the trees.

It’s in those quiet moments that the anxiety returns. Not full force, thankfully, but with the insistent nagging that he is going to have to talk to Phil about what happened at some point. Teasing is great, but it won’t, on its own, be enough to completely put this behind them. Especially because Dan is now short a sleeping bag.

His mind spins false conversations and daydreamed plans, trying to determine the best way to get out of the coming confrontation unscathed. And, honestly, his best bet is to avoid the conversation entirely. Maybe that’s not the most mature approach, but, given that he pissed himself last night, he thinks he gets a pass on having to act like a near-adult for the next couple of hours.

Dan’s inner monologue is interrupted when Chris announces that he has too much energy and suggests they all go on a hike. Already having exercised quite a lot today, Dan isn’t thrilled with the prospect. But mentioning his early morning outing would only encourage questions, so he just smiles and gets up to go on a hopefully less strenuous excursion.

He needn’t have worried – Chris and PJ are no more athletic than Dan pretends to be, and their hike is more of a stroll than anything else. It’s the perfect pace for small talk and bants, and Dan loses himself to the carefree atmosphere; it’s hard to be tense in a place so beautiful.

But, at some point, as conversation with friends is oft to do, the topic of conversation turns to the one person who is not there: Phil. It’s nothing major, really, but PJ comments that Phil seems more stressed than usual lately and that he seems to be spending less time with them. Dan knows PJ isn’t exactly wrong, but it raises his hackles, nonetheless.

“He’s just got some new things in the works,” Dan protests. “And besides, he still is around a lot.”

“Around you, maybe,” PJ admits, “but the rest of us don’t live with him. He barely gets out of the flat more than you do.”

Dan frowns. It’s not really a jab at him – it’s no secret that he’d rather stay home with Phil than go out – but the way PJ says it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“You know how invested he gets when he really likes a project.”

“Or a person,” Chris grumbles.

Dan looks at him with furrowed brows. “He’s not trying to avoid you guys, I swear. He would’ve told me.”

PJ chuckles. “Well, I don’t doubt that.”

“Whatever,” Chris says, “this trip was definitely a smart idea. Y’know being in nature together and all of that shit. It’s good for clearing our heads, figuring stuff out.”

Dan nods; Chris is right, even if he can’t know the anxiety spiral that’s been eating at him for most of today.

“Finally talking about the things that are obvious,” PJ adds. Chris snorts.

“We can all stand to be better at communication, I guess,” Dan says slowly. He senses that he’s missing something, but perhaps Chris and PJ just understand each other in a way that Dan doesn’t.

He feels that way about Phil sometimes, that Phil is the only person who really sees him. And, every once in a while, when an intimate look is thrown his way or when he receives the kind of smile that never seems to show itself on camera, Dan thinks that – _hopes_ that – just maybe, he’s the only one who gets to see the real Phil too.

“Great,” Chris says. He claps a hand on Dan’s shoulder. “Glad we’re all on the same page. Let’s head back.”

-

They gather firewood on their trek back to camp; they only need a few handfuls to top up the leftover wood from last night.

Phil is already back at camp when they return, but, other than a quick smile sent Dan’s way, Dan doesn’t see much of him for the rest of the afternoon. It’s only when Dan is struggling to arrange the wood for the fire that Phil quietly sidles up to him.

Dan doesn’t notice at first, too busy trying to remember how Phil set the firewood, memory hazy from his lack of sleep and because his focus hadn’t exactly been on the _wood_ during yesterday’s demonstration. Phil clears his throat. Dan jumps.

“How’s it going?” Phil asks, brushing his fingers along Dan’s back.

Dan feels a chill across the path left by Phil’s hand, and he fights a smile as he turns towards its cause.

“You made it look so easy,” he says with an exaggerated pout and puppy dog eyes.

He’s maybe overselling it, but if Dan can just convince Phil to take over this unnecessarily complicated task, he can go lie down for a few minutes before dinner. He’s been awake for way too many hours today, and he still hasn’t figured out how he’s going to sleep tonight. If he can get in a nap now, maybe it won’t be so bad curling up with an extra sweatshirt on the tent floor later.

“Having some performance issues?” Phil asks with a glint in his eye. “Not everyone’s cut out for touching wood in public.”

Dan’s so tired that he just blinks at Phil, not comprehending. Then it hits him, and then he hits Phil. Phil just laughs, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth. Dan tries not to notice.

He sighs. “Do you have any actual advice for this?”

Phil pauses, presumably noticing that Dan isn’t quite up for their usual banter.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, suddenly serious.

“Just tired,” Dan mumbles, hoping Phil won’t make him admit to what happened last night.

But Phil doesn’t ask. He doesn’t demand an explanation even though Dan thinks he’s more than entitled to do so. Phil doesn’t even spare him a pitying glance. He just says, “Yeah, that sucks,” and, after a second, adds, “but I’ll help, come on.”

He crouches down with Dan and shows him the proper way to lay the twigs so that they support the wispy tinder. Phil is gentle and caring and is so careful to avoid assuming whether or not Dan’s understood – he lets Dan set the pace, and, with that unspoken encouragement, Dan actually finds that he does have some instinctual knowledge about the best way to build their fire.

When they finish, they get up at the same time. They stand close, and their gazes stay locked. Dan wracks his brain to find the right words to convey how much he appreciates all that Phil’s done for him, both now and earlier today. The best he can come up with is “thank you,” and he really hopes Phil can hear the meaning behind those words.

If Phil does, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he shrugs and says, “Well I certainly wasn’t going to pass up on the opportunity to feel up some hard wood.”

Dan chuckles, despite himself. “I’m only giving you a pass for that one because you helped me.”

“Whatever you say, Danny boy.”

Phil turns away, but Dan grabs his wrist before he can leave.

“But really, though. Thank you.”

Phil looks at him with soft eyes. “Of course,” he says, using his free arm to wrap Dan in a hug. “You know I’ve got your back…or your front. Whichever you prefer.” Dan just shakes his head and presses closer into Phil.

-

Dinner seems to drag, but Dan recognizes that his exhaustion is likely warping his perception. He needs the others to finish their food and decide to have an early night. And then, once they all fall asleep, Dan can sneak back into his own tent for some much-needed shuteye while avoiding an incredibly awkward conversation with Phil.

And, maybe it’s just because of his tired state, but Dan doesn’t contribute much to the conversation around the campfire. He knows he has nobody but himself to blame when Phil spends much of the meal joking with Chris and PJ rather than with him. Even so, Dan can’t help but feel a little left out.

He tries to push those thoughts down – he doesn’t consider himself a jealous person and he certainly doesn’t want to think too much about why he’s suddenly so desperate for Phil’s attention. Phil can have other friends. Even best friends, if he chooses. Dan doesn’t get to have a say in that, even if the uncomfortable twisting in his chest wishes otherwise.

He necks the rest of his beer. This one is warm – the effects of the cooler having long since faded – but the drink is more to keep his mind off of… _things_ than for any sort of real refreshment.

When the drink settles comfortably in his full stomach, Dan feels even sleepier than before. And, when he looks around and sees the conversation flow without him, there’s an unexpected burst of warmth in his chest for his friends. He isn’t jealous, anymore. He just feels safe.

Dan’s eyes flutter closed.

-

It doesn’t feel like any time has passed when Phil shakes him awake. He startles into awareness and almost falls over. He grabs Phil’s thigh to keep himself upright, blushing pink once he realizes what he’s done. He gives Phil a sheepish smile and quickly removes his hand. But Dan can’t stop his eyes from glancing back at Phil who appears to be fighting off his own flush. _Whoops._

“You’re lucky Phil woke you,” Chris says, “PJ was about to start experimenting on you.”

Dan is too tired to try to make sense of that statement on his own. “Experimenting?” he asks, trying to fight off the haze of sleep.

PJ shrugs. “I wanted to test a theory.”

He sounds almost innocent, but Dan knows PJ and, therefore, knows that there has got to be a catch.

“What theory?” Dan asks, warily.

“That putting someone’s hand in warm water causes them to wet themselves.”

Dan is suddenly _very_ awake. He looks at Phil with wide eyes. His heart pounds, and he feels a bit sick.

_Phil didn’t tell them – did he?_

Phil subtly shakes his head, and Dan lets out a long breath. He tries to get his pulse back within somewhat of the normal range so that his voice doesn’t crack when he says, “That’s definitely a myth, PJ.”

And then, because Dan’s filter is non-existent when tired, he continues, “And, anyways, I barely have enough dry clothes left as it is.”

He realizes what he’s said a second too late.

“What happened to your other clothes?” PJ asks. It’s a fair question, but Dan’s mind reels, looking for any plausible answer other than the truth.

“He forgot pyjamas,” Phil jumps in, “so he’s been borrowing mine.” It doesn’t exactly explain why Dan said _dry_ clothes, but the conversation’s already moving past his slip-up. Dan shoots Phil a grateful look.

“You did bring way too big of a backpack for a two-night trip,” Chris says, stroking his chin in dramatized faux thought.

“That reminds me!” Phil exclaims. He jumps up from his seat. “I brought marshmallows and other sweets. I figured we could see what roasts the best.”

Chris grimaces. “If I eat anything more, I think I’ll be sick, mate.”

“And I was actually about to turn in for the night,” PJ says, “sorry.”

“Oh.” Phil visibly deflates, sitting back down next to Dan. Something about his expression feels heart-breaking.

Dan leans into Phil and nudges him with his shoulder. “Go get the sweets,” he says. “I’ll stay.”

“You don’t have to.” Phil sounds so completely dejected. Dan’s heart clenches.

“I want to,” he says, and he’s surprised to find that his answer feels like the truth. He knows it would better for him if the campfire ended early. But, for a reason he doesn’t want to examine too closely, Dan would honestly rather stay here with Phil, even if they are just going to be burning sugar together.

Phil reaches out and squeezes Dan’s knee with a smile that feels too private to be given in the presence of the others.

“I’ll go get the bag,” he says, standing back up. He heads back towards their tent, and, after brushing their teeth, PJ and Chris duck into their own.

For a moment, Dan is the only one at the campfire.

Dan’s always liked fire – from a distance, anyway. He likes how ephemeral it is, how it’s always changing and is never quite able to be captured in image. He maybe feels like that, himself, sometimes.

No matter how much of his personality he attempts to put into his videos, it’s never himself that he sees when he later watches them back. He only sees someone who’s too posh or too stiff or too eager to please. And, he is like that, sometimes, but, with so much that he isn’t saying, those aspects of himself seem amplified. It’s difficult to be authentic when his goal is to entertain, but Dan is starting to wonder if it’s impossible to achieve the second without the first.

And, like with fire, Dan feels this whole career he’s building can just be blown out with a particularly strong gust of wind.

He expresses as much to Phil when he gets back to the fire and sits down next to Dan, the bag of sweets pressed tight between their thighs.

Phil’s eyebrows knit together. He looks at Dan, studies him.

Dan takes a bite out of a gummy worm.

Eventually, Phil speaks, voice low and measured.

“I like how fire is always telling a story,” he says. “An image can’t capture the true beauty of fire because it’s the motion, the _growth_ that makes it so stunning.”

Phil looks away from Dan and waves his hand into the air. “Every flicker of flame puts something new into the world. And I don’t know that it’s possible for anyone to truly comprehend and appreciate the magnitude of that kind of creative act. But even just seeing a moment of fire makes you want more, makes you want to experience it in real time.”

“Experience it how?” Dan breathes.

Phil turns back to him with a look that makes Dan’s insides melt. He presses closer.

“Feel its warmth,” Phil murmurs, reaching out with one hand to wrap his fingers around the side of Dan’s waist. “Interact with it, see how it responds.” His other hand comes up to cup Dan’s jaw, and he rubs his thumb over Dan’s cheek, skin going rosy under his touch. Phil’s lips quirk up into a smile.

“And, yeah, at the beginning, it’s easy for a fire to be extinguished. But with the proper support and time, even the most fragile of fire can burn into a brilliant blaze.”

_Dan wants to kiss him._

It’s not the most shocking thought, nor one that’s entirely new. But this is the first time that Dan doesn’t immediately shake the idea from his head. The first time Dan actually lets himself consider the answer to ‘ _What if?’_

It’s thrilling.

Dan looks down at Phil’s lips and then back into his eyes. He could just go for it, connect their lips and find out, once and for all, if the rhythm they have as friends contains the potential for something more.

But he hesitates. There’s something bittersweet about getting that answer, for if they gain that kind of certainty, their game will be over. Dan isn’t quite sure the risk is worth that loss.

So, he bites his bottom lip – perhaps a subconscious effort to prevent himself from leaning forward and frantically pressing his mouth to Phil’s – and sits back.

He immediately averts his gaze and starts going through Phil’s bag of sweets. He doesn’t want to see the look on Phil’s face. Doesn’t want to know if it shows relief or disappointment or a sympathetic half-smile that means Phil doesn’t feel the same.

His fingers grasp the edge of the bag of jumbo marshmallows, and he pulls out two of the sweets inside. Dan takes a deep breath before looking back up, extending a marshmallow to Phil as a sort of peace offering. He braces himself for Phil’s reaction to the abrupt switch in topic and in Dan’s demeanour. But Phil only smiles with those same warm eyes and reaches for the marshmallow in Dan’s hand. Their fingers touch as he takes the marshmallow, and, for a moment, Dan forgets to breathe.

This time, it’s Phil who pulls away.

There’s a beat of silence, and Dan wonders if the rest of tonight is going to be plagued with tension now that he went and let _feelings_ fuck it up.

“Let’s get roasting,” Phil says, and, just like that, everything in Dan’s world is back to normal. No more inconvenient skipping of his heart, no more confusing feelings making things awkward, no more long looks and lingering touches. He’s just roasting marshmallows with a friend, and that’s enough.

They sterilize two sticks in the fire and place their marshmallows on the ends. They sit in silence as they watch the treats turn golden-brown. Dan is excited, but it’s Phil who can’t seem to sit still long enough for the sugar to caramelize properly, taking his stick from the fire every few seconds to check on the not-yet-ready marshmallow.

“Just eat it, if you’re so impatient,” Dan says, amusement colouring his tone.

“Good things come to those who wait, Daniel.”

Even so, Phil reaches with his free hand into the bag of sweets and grabs another marshmallow. His fingers brush across Dan’s arm in a way that doesn’t feel accidental.

Phil eats his marshmallow like he’s getting away with something naughty, repeatedly glancing at Dan as though they’re partners in crime who’ve just pulled off the dangerous theft of extra marshmallows from the bag. It’s incredibly cute.

Dan eventually remembers to look back at his marshmallow. Perfect timing. The smell is overwhelmingly sweet as he pulls it from the fire, moaning as he breathes in the scent. Dan brings the stick close and laps up the liquid sugar. It’s deliciously warm and silky sweet, and Dan runs his tongue over the roof of his mouth as he tries to savour the taste.

His gaze immediately flits to Phil once he’s swallowed and finds that Phil is watching him with hooded eyes. Dan blushes. He hadn’t given much thought to how his marshmallow-eating _display_ might look from the outside. So much for keeping things strictly platonic.

But then Phil removes his own marshmallow from the fire, finally toasted dark, and brings it to his lips. Phil’s tongue circles the top of the marshmallow. His eyes don’t stray from Dan’s as he opens his mouth and sucks the head of the marshmallow inside. Dan feels the spark of arousal in his groin, and he tries to inconspicuously shift in his seat. Phil smirks.

Maybe some kinds of teasing still _are_ on the table.

-

Dan, after checking that his sleeping bag is still wet, follows Phil back into their tent. He lingers by the entrance; he hadn’t really planned for Phil being awake at this point. Going to bed on the floor is so much more embarrassing with Phil awake because he knows exactly why Dan is out of a sleeping bag tonight.

Dan walks over to his hastily packed overnight bag and pulls out a sweatshirt. It’s Phil’s York hoodie. _Crap_. He doesn’t really believe in the orchestrated machinations of the universe, but he’s got to admit the cosmic forces do have a strong sense of humour.

“Good choice,” Phil says with a soft smile when he sees the hoodie in Dan’s hands.

Dan turns around in what he hopes appears as an attempt at privacy rather than to prevent Phil from seeing the redness of his cheeks.

He takes off his shirt but then hesitates – he hadn’t brought a spare night tee. He’s done this before, worn Phil’s sweatshirt without anything underneath, but he’s never done so in front of Phil. Perhaps that’s why something about it now feels different. More intimate. He breathes out slowly to calm his anxious thoughts and pulls the hoodie over his head. He risks a glance at Phil, hoping he isn’t annoyed that Dan’s wearing the sweatshirt directly on his skin.

Phil’s eyes roam across Dan’s torso, and, to Dan’s relief, he doesn’t seem upset. He actually sort of seems… _interested._ Dan looks away with a shy smile.

He sits down, cross-legged on the ground. His joggers are slightly dirty from wearing them two days in a row and having sat on the forest floor on multiple occasions within that time, but, at this point, warmth is more important than cleanliness, and it’s his own fault for ruining his regular pyjamas.

Dan dutifully looks away as Phil changes. When Dan lets his eyes flicker back over to Phil, he immediately notices that he’s wearing last night’s t-shirt but matched with a different set of pyjama bottoms. He cringes. That pretty much answers the question Dan really didn’t want to ask.

Phil crouches down and starts to zip his sleeping bag back into its normal position – they won’t be needing it as a blanket tonight. When it’s halfway zipped, Phil gets in. After a minute, he turns to Dan.

“Why are you sitting over there?”

“Well, I don’t exactly have a sleeping bag anymore.” ~~~~

Phil gives Dan a look that makes him feel just the tiniest bit self-conscious. He wraps his arms around himself, cocooning himself in Phil’s hoodie. Phil’s eyes follow to the movement.

“So, you were planning to just sleep on the floor.” It isn’t a question.

Dan shrugs.

“Dan, don’t be an idiot. We’re sharing.”

Phil holds the end of the sleeping bag out. Dan looks at it, dubiously.

“But now it’s just a regular sleeping bag,” Dan says, “and especially after what happened last night–”

Phil cuts him off. “What happened last night…”

For a moment, Dan can’t breathe. This is the confrontation he wanted to avoid. But then Phil shakes his head like he’s stopping his train of thought, and he looks back at Dan with a searing level of intensity.

“It’s fine.” Phil sounds so emphatic that Dan wants to believe him.

He still doesn’t, not completely, at least, but he bites his lip to keep from arguing.

“Hey,” Phil says, recapturing his attention, “c’mere.”

Dan shuffles closer to him, stopping right by the edge of the sleeping bag. Phil’s smile at him feels caring and sympathetic.

“Please stop worrying about it,” he says. “Your lips are so chapped from biting them that they’re going to bleed.” He doesn’t wait for Dan to release his swollen lip. Instead, he reaches out with his thumb and presses against Dan’s bottom lip until it rolls out from beneath his front teeth.

“Ok,” Dan says quietly. He attempts to get into the sleeping bag but stops when Phil gives him a pointed look.

“You’re really planning to sleep in those?” he asks, motioning towards Dan’s dirty joggers.

“Yeah, well, you know what happened to my actual pyjamas,” Dan mumbles. He rubs the back of his neck to soothe the creeping heat of embarrassment. He tries to look anywhere but Phil’s face.

“You can sleep in your pants, you know,” Phil says, and Dan’s gaze snaps back to him. “I mean, _I_ certainly don’t mind.”

Dan considers the offer. It’s not like Phil’s never seen him in just his pants – Dan walks around half-dressed in the apartment frequently enough for any novelty to have worn off. This, however, feels significantly more intentional than dipping into the kitchen for a late-night snack or scurrying into his bedroom after a long shower.

But Dan isn’t deaf to the teasing in Phil’s voice. And there is no way he is going to let Phil win their little game. If Phil wants to up the stakes, then so be it; Dan has never been one to back down from a challenge, wayward feelings of his be damned.

So, Dan stands up. He reaches down, brushes his thumb over the button, and, while looking directly at Phil, slowly lowers the zip. He tries to hold a straight face as he shifts his hips, pulling his joggers over his ass and down his legs.

Instead of hopping out when the material bunches by his ankles as he typically does, Dan sits on the ground and runs his fingers over his legs, entirely on display, and gently pushes them off.

Dan doesn’t quite know where the boundaries are in this game of theirs, but that doesn’t stop him from standing back up and leaning over, giving Phil a full view of his ass and effectively hiding his furious blush – this is so far out of his comfort zone that it’s a miracle he hasn’t tripped all over himself by now.

He picks his trousers up and off the ground and folds them neatly. He doesn’t give Phil any attention as he saunters over to his bag. The only downside of doing so is that he has no idea if he’s getting his desired reaction, but Dan forces himself to not turn around. And he doesn’t, at least not until he’s placed the joggers in his bag and carefully closed the zipper. Then, and only then, does he turn around and look directly at Phil.

Dan tries not to let his anxiety show through his bravado. Adrenaline pulses through his veins, and Dan’s mind is so full of static that he just acts on instinct. He thumbs the end of his sweatshirt – it’s long enough on him that only the edge of his pants is visible beneath its hem. His hips sway a little, and he hopes it seems intentional, even if it is just a consequence of the frantic beating in his chest being too erratic for him hold still.

This is all just a game, and Dan knows that, but it isn’t one that is entirely without risk. With each of his actions, he is asking Phil without words –

_Do you like this? Do you like me?_

_Am I something you want?_

The only thing more dangerous is the implicit qualification –

_Because I want you._

Dan looks at Phil with the most innocent expression he can manage and his very best pout, and it is only half for show. Phil’s face is slack, and his jaw hangs open. His eyes are wide and unblinking.

Dan smiles and looks down, hoping to stave off his blush. He presses his lips together to help keep his composure, but then he remembers what Phil said about his chapped lips. Dan looks back up at him as he runs his tongue over the bottom lip, soothing the indents left by his teeth.

Phil’s voice is gravelly when he finally speaks. “Come to bed?” It doesn’t sound like a question, and Dan finds that doesn’t really mind being an, or perhaps _the_ , answer.

Dan nods and tiptoes over to the bed. There’s something fragile about this moment, like if Dan presses into it with his full weight it will shatter. He slips into the sleeping bag, staying as close to the open zipper as possible. It’s partially to not pressure Phil any further – physical boundaries in a space like this are difficult to maintain – and partially so that Phil won’t be able to sense the speed of his heartbeat.

But Phil reaches an arm across Dan to grasp the zipper between two fingers. He gradually tugs it closed.

Dan doesn’t breathe.

Phil’s hand trails across Dan’s covered chest as he starts to pull back. Dan tries to ignore the warmth of his touch, scorching even through the barrier of his – _Phil’s_ – hoodie.

“Is this okay?” Phil whispers.

Dan takes a moment as though he’s considering it, even though he knows his answer.

“’Course,” he says with an easy smile that hopefully masks how absolutely exhilarating this simple touch feels.

Heady, anticipation-filled breaths are the only sounds Dan can hear over the blood rushing through his ears.

Phil’s hand trails lower. “And this?”

His hand rests over Dan’s navel, and it’s even more distracting than when it had been at his heart. His mind flashes with the image of Phil touching him like this without thick cotton between their bodies. Arousal pools in his groin. Dan gives a vague, affirmative grunt, intent on keeping his focus on staying calm rather than on remembering how to form words.

And, for a moment, Dan thinks he succeeds. The warmth of Phil’s body next to his and the heavy sleeping bag everywhere else keep at bay the shivers that threaten to wrack Dan’s body, even though they’re more from Phil’s touch than the temperature. Dan’s mind regains its clarity and the twitchy feeling in his heart relaxes into a more sleep-conducive rhythm.

But when Phil’s fingers move again, Dan breathes out a sound that falls somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. Of course, Phil isn’t going to let him off _that_ easy. It’s competitive, their teasing, and Dan knows Phil is not one to appreciate being left in the dust.

Phil’s fingers are delicate as they brush lower, briefly landing on Dan’s hip.

“Turn on your side?” Phil asks. It’s another half question. Or maybe it’s just that Dan is so willing to do whatever Phil says that he doesn’t really pay attention to the fact that Phil makes sure Dan can say no.

It is something he most certainly appreciates, somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind. But, on the surface, Dan doesn’t seriously consider taking the out. Although this is new and is objectively, perhaps, mildly terrifying, Dan isn’t scared because it’s also, somehow, so _them._ And Dan loves it.

That’s what he convinces himself, anyways, as he turns over without a word – that it’s the game that he loves, and not the someone who brings this playfulness out from within him. No, it’s the back and forth, the push and pull between two people who know exactly which buttons to press to get the other to react.

Even if this is all that Phil wants from him, he’s more than happy to oblige. Feelings can be sorted out later; right now, the priority is sorting out how far is too far when it comes to _casual_. So, when Phil rolls onto his side and curls close, his front against Dan’s back, Dan pushes against him the tiniest bit.

Phil gasps. And then, after what feels like an eternity, he carefully folds his body so that his pelvis is now a crucial distance away from Dan’s backside. _Fuck_.

He really hopes he didn’t just mess this up, didn’t go too far into this uncharted territory between them. Even if his boldness means he wins, that’s not worth anything if it comes at the cost of ruining a relationship already so perfect.

Dan stays very still, and his awareness returns to the fingers at his side. They dig into his skin, gently pressing a nonsensical pattern that is impossible for Dan to ignore. Perhaps that’s the point, Dan muses, that Phil’s goal is to keep him slightly on edge. To make his touch so teasingly frustrating that, when Phil’s fingers start to move, Dan only feels relief, even as those fingers inch lower.

Down, down, down. Dan feels the touch of Phil’s fingertips brush from his hip to his navel to his cock. Phil’s fingers ghost over him, so sensitive even through his hoodie and his pants. Dan can’t prevent his response to Phil’s touch, breathing out a moan and tilting his hips to press into the sensation.

Dan briefly feels embarrassed about being so turned on by something so minor, but he is quickly distracted when Phil’s fingertips find the edge of the hoodie and twist underneath it. His fingers crawl upwards – carefully avoiding contact with Dan’s pants – and come down where the elastic meets fine hair.

Phil twists his fingers into the tufts, and the gesture pushes the hoodie upwards, revealing Dan’s stomach, even if still underneath the sleeping bag.

“Even this?” Phil whispers.

Dan looks up and blinks several times, perhaps trying to subconsciously signal to his brain to not think about anything currently happening below his field of vision. The best Dan can do at the moment is nod in response.

He can feel the swell of his cock against the restrictive material of his pants, and he silently wishes for Phil to move his hand lower. His dick twitches, and Dan isn’t quite sure whether or not he hopes Phil feels the velvety skin beneath his fingers jump with the movement.

There’s a beat, and Dan thinks that, perhaps, he’ll be able to control himself and calm his arousal. But then Phil moves, harshly pressing the heel of his hand against where Dan’s bladder rests.

Dan bucks forward, and his lips part. _“Ohhh…”_

“Sorry,” Phil says with amusement but no remorse, leaning forward to murmur in Dan’s ear, “I wanted to make sure we weren’t going to have another _accident_.”

He smooths his palm across Dan’s stomach. Dan’s breaths are shallow, and he can feel the careful pressing of tentative fingers against his abdomen as his chest rapidly rises and falls.

“You’re never going to let this go, are you?”

Dan’s already resigned himself to this fate – the terribly fantastic torture that is Phil teasing him for something that he can’t quite control – but he wants to make sure to keep his expectations in check.

Phil huffs out a breathy laugh. “Do you even want me to?”

There’s something suggestive in Phil’s tone that makes Dan feel _exposed_ , like Phil knows an answer that Dan isn’t ready to give. Phil rubs his fingers in soothing circles over Dan’s stomach, and Dan tries to consider what Phil’s asking. If Phil is willing to drop it, why isn’t that Dan’s obvious choice?

Why is it that Dan instead says – “You’re on thin fucking ice” – all banter and no bite?

Whatever the reason, Phil seems to be sure of it because he breathes warm air over Dan’s neck and whispers, “Good. Let’s hope it doesn’t melt.”

-

When Dan wakes, Phil’s arm is wrapped around his torso. Without enough awareness for his anxiety to take hold, Dan doesn’t think twice before twisting towards Phil’s warmth. Phil nuzzles closer in his sleep. Dan’s eyes flutter open, blinking at the soft light filtering through the canvas of their tent, its haze bathing everything in a golden glow.

He takes a moment to look at Phil, vulnerable and almost childlike in sleep. He really does look younger. Phil’s usually more kempt hair is tousled from his movements in sleep, and, as a result, he looks just like he did when Dan first found his videos.

It hasn’t even been that long, but Phil now possesses a kind of confidence that only comes with age. Dan would never admit it to his face, but it can be slightly intimidating. It’s not a bad thing – Dan _likes_ that Phil is finally sure of the abilities that were so evident even through the shoddy screen of Dan’s computer – but this hint of the shy Phil who hesitantly offered to Skype with Dan makes his heart clench. Maybe it’s nostalgia. Maybe it’s because Dan now recognizes that perhaps there always was something _more_ about the way he looked up to Phil, about the desperation with which he needed Phil to notice him.

There was a power imbalance then, but, even now that Phil’s gained more confidence, it isn’t something that’s become more pronounced. If anything, with time, Dan has come to be able to hold his own. So, when power now shifts between them, it’s no longer a one-way slope but a pendulum – giving and taking, pushing and pulling, edging closer and closer to the horizon from which there is no return. Dan can’t help but wonder what exists past that carefully drawn line, sometimes.

But, for now, he’s content to watch the soothing way Phil breathes between parted lips, the gentleness with which his eyelids rest, how his long eyelashes brush the soft skin beneath them. Dan eyes the faint stubble that shadows Phil’s jaw, grown in the two days away from their usual comforts. Away from everything, really. Everything but each other.

Dan feels sleepy and warm, and he fades into and out of consciousness.

When he next feels sentient enough to form coherent thoughts, he stretches. He grumbles at the shift in his lower abdomen when he does. This is what he gets, he supposes, for building a schedule for himself, a routine to which he adheres every morning; his mind might know he’s away from home, but his body still expects Dan to stumble into the bathroom just minutes after waking up.

At least today he’s noticed before his need got too severe, he thinks to himself, wryly. He tries to wait it out, hoping the feeling will pass and allow him a few more hours of half-asleep cuddles, but, with no distractions to keep Dan’s mind off of the pressure in his bladder, it’s an impossible feat.

Dan sighs. Trying to not wake Phil, he gently shrugs Phil’s arm off his torso and reaches behind himself to find the tag of the sleeping bag’s zipper. He pulls it down as softly as he can manage, doing his best not to disturb the stillness of the morning.

He stumbles out of bed and shivers when the cool morning air hits his legs. He looks down. _Oh right, he’s just in his pants._ Dan’s eyes catch on Phil’s black jeans crumpled carelessly on the ground, and, when his bladder clenches in a way that borders on uncomfortable, he quickly grabs them – better that he secretly borrow Phil’s jeans for a moment than waste crucial time finding his own.

Dan bends over and gasps at the extra pressure against his bladder. He frantically shoves his feet into the jeans, yanks them up his legs, and pulls them over his ass. His fingers twitch as he forces the button closed and quickly zips the fly.

He drags open the tent’s zipper and barely has the sense of mind to hear the terrible screech it makes. Dan winces, but the noise is quickly disregarded when he steps out into the harsh light of the outdoors.

Focusing his vision, he walks around their tent to the densely wooded area behind it. The ground is soft and damp beneath his feet; in his haste, he hadn’t thought to put on shoes.

Dan walks and trips and hurries past dozens of trees until he gets impatient, until he’s afraid that, if he goes any farther, his self-control might waver. He stands in a small clearing, trees spread far enough apart that he can see a bit of bright blue sky through the canopy of leaves.

Dan stops. Breathes. His hand reaches down to undo the closure on his jeans.

But there’s a rustle. And then another. When Dan strains to listen, he thinks it kind of sounds like footsteps. Nobody else should be awake now, but, just to be safe, he calls out –

“ _Oi!_ _I’m over here!_ ”

The rustling is louder now, closer, and it more clearly sounds like brush being crushed underfoot. Dan squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and clenches the muscles in his groin – he’s going to have to hold for a bit longer.

He opens his eyes just in time to see Phil step between the last few rows of trees and stop at the end of the small clearing.

“Hey,” Phil says, entirely too casually.

Dan shifts his weight from leg to leg. He hopes the movement doesn’t seem obvious.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. “I’m trying to piss.”

“I know.” Phil sounds entirely unbothered. Dan can’t quite say he feels the same.

“You know?” He rounds on Phil, voice growing louder, more irritated. “Then why the hell did you follow me!”

Phil shrugs. “It’s not a big deal,” he says, despite his smirk suggesting otherwise. “I’m already desensitized.”

 _“You—”_ Every rude word Dan knows is on the tip of his tongue.

“It’s not like I’m stopping you. Go on.”

Dan scoffs. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Phil doesn’t say anything.

Dan sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Look, I’m not going to be able to piss if you’re here,” he says. He’s not sure that’s entirely true at this point, given how intensely his bladder _hurts_ , but at least it sounds somewhat logical.

Phil raises an eyebrow. “You certainly didn’t seem to have an issue with that the other night.”

Dan lets out a dry laugh, but it’s shaky with both nerves and desperation. He really doesn’t have the wherewithal to argue with Phil _and_ maintain control of his bodily functions. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“So… can I stay?”

It only takes Dan a second to decide. “Yeah, yeah, _fuck_ ” – his bladder spasms – “you can stay.”

Phil strides over to him and threads his fingers through two beltloops of the jeans sitting low on Dan’s hips. He pulls Dan closer, one hesitant, careful step at a time.

“This okay?” he whispers.

Dan’s nod is as desperate as his need for release. He’s so entirely vulnerable, standing here in front of Phil, but there’s a fervour that stirs within him at the thought of them sort of being in this together, of jointly taking pleasure in the relief for which Dan begs.

Dan’s face contorts as he tries to prevent himself from leaking. He crosses his legs and presses them together tightly.

Phil tuts. “None of that,” he says, his tone somehow both stern and gentle. He reaches down with one hand and moves the knee of Dan’s front leg aside, separating his legs, and then slowly, slowly trails his fingers up the inside of Dan’s thigh. The sensation is so devastatingly wonderful that Dan can’t stop himself from leaking. He moans, loud and uninhibited, as he feels the first few drops of warm urine wet the head of his dick.

He looks at Phil with wild eyes. Phil seems to take pity on him and removes his hand from Dan’s thigh. Dan hears a whimper and only after a few seconds does he realize that it was _he_ who made that desperate, needy sound.

Phil’s hands move to Dan’s hips, and Dan uses the moment of stillness to take a deep breath. But then Phil leans forward and presses their clothed crotches together.

“ _Ahhhh!”_ Dan moans.

Phil begins to grind against him, and, after only a few passes of rough friction between their groins, Dan realizes, with a shock, that Phil is _hard_. The thought is enough to make Dan’s eyes roll back and send a different kind of desperate heat rushing to his cock. He grinds back against Phil.

“You’re hard,” Dan grunts, unable to hide his astonishment.

Phil stills immediately. “Is that a problem?”

 _No_ , Dan thinks, _definitely not_ , as his dick swells against the fabric of his pants. He quickly looks down to check the faint bulge in his tight jeans. And it’s certainly not difficult from there to sneakily slide his gaze over to where Phil’s cock tents his pyjamas. Dan’s mouth waters.

Not only are they both hard, not only are they acknowledging that fact without laughing it off, but they are actually spurring each other on. It’s like their teasing has been taken from easy mode to the boss level, and it’s the most pleasurable kind of challenge.

How far can he push, Dan wonders, how far can he take this newfound physical _thing_ with Phil? How much is too much? Dan knows with a thrilling level of certainty that he’s about to find out; everything else is suddenly not _enough_.

“Only problem is that, if _I_ get too hard, I won’t be able to pee.”

Phil looks at him with such a fucking condescending expression. “Good, maybe you’ll learn to last longer.”

Dan gasps with indignation. But then Phil continues, emphasizing his words with harsh presses against Dan’s dick –

“Didn’t even wait for me to wake up, yesterday. You probably just humped me in my sleep, got the dripping, wet, _overflowing_ release you needed and fled. Left me all alone, made me have to do all the work to piece together images of what happened.”

He leans forward and brings his lips close to Dan’s ear. “I must say, though,” he says in a low growl, “those were some mind-blowing fucking images.”

Dan groans. Something about Phil openly admitting to his _desire_ is so fucking sexy. It means Phil followed him today already _wanting_ this, and, perhaps, wanting him. Dan hopes he can put on as good of a show as whatever fantasies have played out in Phil’s mind.

“Think the real thing can live up to your expectations?”

“We’ll see,” Phil says coyly. “Think you can be a good boy?”

Dan stutters forward. His head drops onto Phil’s clothed shoulder, and he bites down through the fabric to keep himself quiet. It’s enough of an answer that he doesn’t attempt to verbally respond.

“Think you can _release_?”

“I can’t just go in my clothes,” Dan says, and he’s too turned on to be embarrassed that it sounds like a whine.

“Hmm.” It’s a noncommittal sound. Phil studies Dan for a moment before bunching up the material of the sweatshirt that clings to Dan’s hips into his fists. “Whose hoodie are you wearing?” he asks with faux innocence.

Dan’s breath catches. “Yours,” he whispers.

“And whose tight, black jeans did you take this morning without permission?”

“Yours.”

Phil’s eyes go soft, and his expression feels almost sweet _._

“That’s right, baby. So, if I say you can go in your clothes, you can, okay?”

Dan’s eyes widen at the pet name, but he nods, and Phil beams back at him. It’s a smile that’s comforting, a smile that says that they’re still just _them_ , a smile that quiets Dan’s lingering anxieties about what all of this means and where the new boundaries are, given that his previous ones have been so entirely obliterated.

Dan’s proper hard now, and the pressure in his bladder is borderline painful. He bites his lip to keep himself steady as he reaches to undo the button on his jeans. Phil’s eyes follow the movement.

Dan sighs when the button pops open, but the noise pierces the fragile veil of his control. Sporadic bursts of urine leak from his dick, and a small wet patch forms on the front of his jeans. _Phil’s jeans._ In the back of Dan’s mind, he allows himself to recognize that makes it even hotter.

He screws his eyes shut and tries to give himself over to the inevitable, but nothing happens. _Shit._

“I’m too hard,” Dan whimpers, looking at Phil. “It’s just- I- I really need to pee and…” His eyes begin to water. “It’s just so, so much, and I _need_ to release, Phil.”

It’s the first time either of them has said the other’s name, and it feels like a whole new level of intensity. By saying Phil’s name, Dan is acknowledging, out loud, that it isn’t just anyone that he could be doing this with – it’s only Phil. The realization almost blows Dan backwards.

 _“Shhhhh,”_ Phil says soothingly, “I’ll help you.”

Phil moves his hands closer together. There’s a brief, heart-stopping moment when Dan thinks Phil is going to wrap his hands around Dan’s cock and stroke him off until he comes. But then, instead of shifting downwards, Phil barely, just barely, digs his thumbs into Dan’s skin.

He moves his thumbs in circles as his other fingers latch onto the hoodie to hold himself and Dan steady. Phil is pressing right over Dan’s bladder, and, with each rotation of his thumbs, he presses just the slightest bit deeper. It’s overwhelming. Dan’s mind goes hazy as his desperation blocks out everything else.

“ _Mmmm_ , you’re so full. Think of how good it’s going to feel when you finally let go.”

Dan whimpers.

“Gonna wet yourself right here, for everyone to see.”

Dan’s breaths are rushed and uneven, and he closes his eyes tight against the onslaught of imagery.

“Feel it running down your legs, hot and slick, with no way to stop it.”

The fantasy Phil is conjuring behind Dan’s eyelids is too perfect for his body to deny.

“ _Ah-ahhh!”_ Dan’s hips buck up as feels another spurt of almost-release.

The front of his jeans immediately darkens further, and the wet patch spreads from the seam of his zipper out towards his thighs and down to his balls.

Phil’s hands still. He kneels in front of Dan and carefully, intentionally looks up at Dan as he leans forward and presses a kiss to the wet fabric covering Dan’s dick.

Dan groans. He fists a hand in Phil’s hair.

Phil kisses and licks and sucks at the fabric like he wants to taste Dan’s piss as soon as it’s released. Dan leaks further, and Phil follows the wetness eagerly, quick to cover the damp spaces with his mouth.

Dan bucks into the delicious pressure of Phil’s tongue licking up the strip of fabric directly covering Dan’s hard, wet cock, and he fleetingly wonders what it feels like for Phil, the texture of rough, soaked denim against the teasing softness of his warm tongue. He wonders if Phil can feel the heat of his piss, if he likes feeling it slide down his throat once he swallows.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Dan breathes.

Seeing Phil _desire_ this part of Dan that he’d never given a second thought, had never considered remotely sensual is breath-taking. It makes him feel so _wanted_. It’s like Phil views even Dan’s excess as precious. With every kiss, Dan can almost hear Phil saying, _“You, all of you.”_

When the trickle from Dan’s dick slows to a drip, Phil pulls back and tips his head up towards Dan. His lips are shiny wet, his cheeks are flushed, and Dan can’t believe he never realized Phil could be this gorgeous.

Phil is the first to look away, and the contrast of his prior brazen actions with this sudden bashfulness makes Dan’s heart clench; no matter how much they play, no matter how confident they both have become, they each still seek the other’s approval when trying something new. Dan doesn’t deny him that validation, letting a string of mixed curses and praises fall from his lips – better to have all his cards on the table than for Phil to underestimate how much Dan wants this.

Phil preens under Dan’s hungry gaze. He leans forward and takes the zipper on Dan’s jeans between his teeth. He pulls, tugging the zip down slowly. His nose brushes against Dan’s pants as it trails behind the zipper, and the touch feels electric.

When Dan’s fly is fully undone, Phil presses closer and ghosts hot breath over the exposed triangle of Dan’s briefs, right where the bulge of Dan’s cock is most prominent. The shaky, warm air sends Dan over the edge, and his release is finally pulled from him, leaving relief and pleasure in its wake.

Phil stands, and he uses the new leverage and one hand to shove Dan’s jeans off his ass. The other hand twists to cup Dan’s dick, and a rush of golden liquid trickles between his fingers before sliding down Dan’s thighs. He strokes over Dan’s balls, and, even through the fabric of his pants, it’s almost enough to make Dan come.

Dan groans when Phil uses both hands to deftly press into most sensitive places on Dan’s dick – behind the head, across his balls, around the base – while his thumb brushes back and forth over his sensitive, leaking slit. It’s like Phil knows where Dan is most responsive, teasing out moans and breathy sighs that Dan didn’t even know he could make. It’s a feat all the more impressive for it’s being so effective without Phil ever seeing his cock.

Dan wonders if these are Phil’s sensitive places as well, if he knows where to press because these are his buttons too, if he’s held himself just like this, on the brink of _everything_ , desperately trying to stay quiet because Dan was in the next room over. If this is what he missed when he went on that run yesterday morning, Dan thinks he might not be able to forgive himself.

Dan is so engrossed by this masturbatory fantasy of Phil that he almost forgets to pay attention to Phil as he stands in front of him, all hooded eyes and tense jaw as he watches Dan’s release.

Phil notices Dan gaze and grunts, “Don’t watch me, watch yourself.” He brings his free hand to the back of Dan’s head and pulls until his forehead rests against Phil’s shoulder. It’s an angle that feels awkward until Dan looks down.

It is so _delicate_ , how the pulsing wetness of piss, _his_ piss, coats Phil’s fingers and drizzles over the edges. It’s almost water-like, all clear and shiny and –

“ _Beautiful,”_ Phil says. “You’re absolutely beautiful.”

The hand in Dan’s hair grips with more intent, fingers twirling around locks curled from two days of humid air.

Dan watches as Phil tightens his fingers around his dick, and, from this angle, it looks almost like a caress. The dual stimulation of sight and touch is maddening; he is both the voyeur and the exhibitionist, the viewer and the view. He wants and is wanted in equal measure.

But then Phil twists his fingers up from Dan’s dick towards the elastic on his pants, and he pauses. Dan leans away from Phil’s shoulder, the movement briefly interrupting the steady stream, and he sees the question in Phil’s eyes.

“Fuck, yes, please, anything” Dan says, nonsensically. But Phil seems to understand what he means well enough because he drags Dan’s briefs over his cock, causing a new spurt of clear urine to burst forth. Dan’s left hand comes down to circle his dick, no longer able to rely on the constraints of his pants to control the direction of the flow.

Phil crouches low, and one hand braces against the ground for balance. The other comes closer, and his knuckles nudge the fingers Dan has wrapped around his cock. It’s the first time they’re truly touching, skin to skin.

The move shifts the arcing stream, so that, instead of spilling onto the ground, it now pours over Phil’s temple and down his cheek, shining where it catches the light. Phil’s mouth drops open with a groan.

He nudges Dan’s fist again. It’s unnecessary this time – Dan knows exactly what Phil wants – but there’s something poignant about the gratuitous request and the way it tempers the uncomfortable clench of _power_ in Dan’s gut. When Phil so openly shows his desire, it feels less like Dan is taking control and more like he is giving in.

Phil closes his eyes when his mouth is gorgeously full, as if to savour what he’s been given. Only once he’s finally swallowed do his eyes flicker open, dazed and sated and so completely _gone_. And, when Phil looks up at Dan like this – _he_ – is the greatest gift Phil’s ever received, Dan’s heart flips. His balls draw up, and Dan holds his breath in heady anticipation.

His stream tapers off, the final drops of his piss dripping off the edge of his dick like acrid raindrops. It’s as though Phil can’t bear to see any go to waste, the way he darts out to catch those last few droplets between his lips, and that faint press of skin against Dan’s already-sensitive dick is enough to wrench his orgasm from him with a shout, coming in hot ropes that stripe Phil’s face white. He’s stunning.

Dan’s orgasm pulses through him with a force that makes it difficult to keep upright. He reaches with both hands to grab Phil’s shoulders. His eyes squeeze shut, and he comes, he comes, he comes.

_It’s incredible._

This whole thing is so fucking surreal. And, when Dan opens his eyes, the awed expression on Phil’s face makes him think that Phil must feel the same. Dan glides his hands across Phil’s shoulders, appreciating the taut muscles beneath his fingertips, until his hands come up to cup Phil’s jaw. Phil smiles shyly and looks down. Dan slides one hand beneath Phil’s chin to tip his head back so he can see Phil’s eyes.

“Hi,” Dan says, voice giddy with the euphoria of release.

Phil doesn’t respond. His eyes are blown wide, dark with unfulfilled desire. Dan wants, _needs_ to get him off. To see his face as he comes, to hear the moans he’s never been allowed to hear before.

“How can I get you off, love?” He’s too blissed out to hear the implications of the pet name until after he’s spoken. He can’t bring himself to regret it. Not when Phil blushes red and bites his lip, just as he had chastised Dan for doing yesterday.

“Kiss me,” Phil whispers, but he says it like a question, like he knows it means more than just getting off and doesn’t want to ask Dan for more than he’s willing to give.

But Dan _is_ willing, so willing, and the thought of Phil coming from just the movement of their lips against each other is so searingly hot that Dan groans and nods enthusiastically.

Phil stands, and Dan’s hands stay cupped around his jaw. He brushes his thumbs over Phil’s stubble, and watches as Phil’s eyes flutter shut. With his eyes still closed, Phil steps closer to Dan, and Dan can feel Phil’s breath against his lips.

Dan takes a moment to look at Phil, the curve of his eyebrows, the cut of his cheekbones, the sharpness of his jaw. Admires the glisten of everything _Dan_ that Phil so willingly accepted, so intensely _wanted_.

He can’t wait any longer. He closes his eyes and brings his lips to barely, just barely, touch Phil’s. Phil gasps, and Dan slots his lower lip between Phil’s parted ones.

As they move their lips in tandem, Dan thinks he understands why Phil asked for this. It’s almost unbearably intense, being so connected like this, learning something new about someone whom it feels like you’ve known your whole life. Dan tries his best to keep up, to memorize how Phil moves, what elicits the most delicious whimpers, what makes him beg Dan for more.

Their tongues brush, and, if Dan hadn’t just come, this would be enough to make him hard. The way Phil _teases_ , trying to work Dan up rather than focusing on his own release, is maddening. He nips Phil’s lip to surprise him into relinquishing some of that dominance. Dan gently licks past Phil’s lips and finds that he tastes like the best kind of mornings – bright and full of potential. Dan smiles into the kiss, but then Phil groans and wraps a hand around the back of Dan’s neck, and suddenly Dan can’t form complete thoughts.

It’s passion, it’s desperation, and it’s just so fucking hot.

“You’re so sexy,” Dan murmurs against Phil’s mouth. He pulls away to place kisses down Phil’s jaw before turning to press against his neck, sucking faint marks into the skin. Phil’s pulse jumps beneath Dan’s lips, and Phil moans loudly when Dan lightly scrapes his teeth against the tender flesh.

Phil presses forward and grinds against Dan. When he pulls away, Dan can see the wet patch of where they were pressed together, and a burst of possessive pride blooms in his chest – that’s from _him_ and Phil wants it for himself, he _wants_ to be marked as Dan’s.

Dan brings his hands under Phil’s t-shirt and presses the pads of his thumbs against his nipples. Phil’s whine encourages him, teasingly rubbing circles that make Phil writhe against his fingers. Phil grabs one of Dan’s hands and brings it down towards his dick. Dan curves his hand around the shape of him through his pyjamas, and he realizes that Phil isn’t wearing pants.

Dan goes hot all over – he hadn’t realized just how close he had been to seeing _all_ of Phil last night when they got undressed. But even feeling Phil through the soft flannel is exhilarating, wringing breathy gasps from Phil every time he squeezes tighter. He strokes up and down slowly, twisting each time he reaches the head.

Dan feels how big Phil is, how he leaks precum over the head of his cock, and he doesn’t know how Phil can take it when Dan, himself, is so worked up that he has half a mind to ask to suck Phil off right then and there.

But then Phil pulls him closer by the neck and smashes their lips together roughly. Dan flattens out his hand, and Phil grinds repeatedly into the heel of his palm. It’s fast, it’s needy, and Dan puts all he has into their kiss to bring Phil over the edge.

Phil freezes against his hand, teetering at the edge of release, and then he falls, slumping forward onto Dan’s shoulder as he shudders through his orgasm. Dan feels sticky heat against his fingertips through the fabric, and he squeezes Phil’s dick experimentally, testing the line between pleasure and overstimulation. But Phil only groans and buries his head in the crook of Dan’s neck, so Dan strokes him slowly, lovingly through his release.

When Phil’s orgasm subsides, he presses his lips against Dan’s neck once. He pulls back, and Dan can see how his eyes dance with mirth, joy, and satisfaction. Dan leans forward and pecks his lips. It’s not sexual, it’s not even romantic, it’s just a gesture that he hopes conveys how much he cares about Phil, how close he feels to him, no matter where it is that they decide to go from here.

Phil smiles. “More of those, please.”

And Dan doesn’t quite know if Phil’s understood the deeper message, but they have all the time in the world to talk it out. So, instead, he smirks.

“That can be arranged,” he says with the teasing tone that they both already know so well. Phil rolls his eyes before bringing Dan into another dizzying kiss.

“At least I have a new way to shut you up,” Phil says breathlessly when they part. And that seals it for Dan – talking is overrated.

-

“Hey Dan, look over here!”

Dan turns to look behind him right as a massive spray of water splashes him in the face. Phil giggles.

“I can’t believe you fell for that,” he says.

Dan smiles and raises his eyebrows. “Oh, well, excuse me for actually trying to do what we came in here to do.” He turns back to scrubbing at a suspicious stain on his clothes.

Phil walks towards him, and Dan instinctively ducks – he wouldn’t put it past Phil to try to sneak up and splash him from behind. Phil grabs at the back of Dan’s hoodie before he can twist away and wraps his arms around Dan’s waist. Dan lowers his guard and brings his hands to cover Phil’s. Phil rests his chin on Dan’s shoulder – he’s the perfect height for that.

“This is nice,” Phil says, softly.

Dan hums in agreement. He’s not quite sure how to put it into words, but he thinks this might even be nicer than the fire and passion of an hour ago, than the flustered feeling he gets when Phil teases him or drops an innuendo. Just standing in the river like this, looking out in the same direction at the waking forest, soft breath by his ear and Phil’s steady heartbeat against his back, is all just so perfect. Phil presses his lips to Dan’s temple. Dan amends his earlier thought – _now_ it’s perfect.

Dan drops his hands back into the water, and, somewhat shyly, takes the hem of his hoodie between his fingers.

Phil, ever attentive, notices. “What is it?” he asks.

Dan bites his lip and counts the seconds his head: one, two, three. And then, as quick as is possible against the current, Dan uses his hoodie to fling as much water as he can over his shoulder. He’s more successful than he thought he’d be.

Phil splutters and hastily wipes his eyes. “Daniel!”

Dan turns around to face him, and, as innocently as he can manage, shrugs and says, “You had a little something on your face.”

Phil blushes dark but quickly recovers. “And whose fault was that?”

“Yours,” Dan says with a chuckle, “definitely, yours.”

Phil gives him a devilish grin. “Does that mean you don’t want it to happen again?”

“You _know_ that’s not what I want.”

“So, what do you want, Danny?”

It’s a teasing sort of question, but Dan considers it seriously. He’d manage if Phil said he just wanted something physical. He’d understand if Phil didn’t want to bring this up again, leaving their moment as a secret for only the forest to remember. No matter what happens next, Dan knows that he’ll be okay.

But he _can_ be more than that. He can have the intensity and the passion and the comfort. He can have the teasing and the flirting and the friendship. He can have _everything_ with Phil, if he is just brave enough to wish for it. To ask for it.

And he is. This kind of darkness doesn’t scare him anymore. He is no longer the kid who still fits into his sleeping bag. He is not as fragile of a fire as he sometimes perceives himself to be. He can stand now, look Phil in the eye as an equal, and allow himself to acknowledge, to recognize, to _feel_ the sheer magnitude of emotion that wells up inside.

Dan knows what he wants.

“Us.”

And Phil smiles that dazzling smile that’s only ever for him, and certainty settles somewhere in Dan’s gut that he’s said the right thing. There’s no anxiety, no doubt, no lingering thoughts. All he’s thinking about now is how he’d do anything to keep seeing that smile.

They can have a water fight or a kiss – all options are on the table now – but, despite the beating of Dan’s heart suggesting otherwise, it doesn’t feel like that drastic of a change. This next step feels like it’s merely an extension of who they are together, like they’ve just earned an expansion pack or bonus abilities.

Maybe this was inevitable, that Dan would eventually get curious as to what was on the other side of the “just friends” boundary in his mind and that they’d somehow make their way here. But Dan still doesn’t really believe in fate, and he’d like to think that he at least had a little bit to do with the smile Phil is currently sending his way.

His thoughts and lovestruck staring are interrupted when PJ and Chris burst through the trees. Dan quickly looks at Phil who shrugs and hesitantly reaches out towards him under the water. Dan can’t help his blush when Phil reaches under his sweatshirt and places his hand on Dan’s hip.

“There you are,” PJ says to them. The way he says it is somehow _knowing_ , Dan thinks, like he hadn’t expected anything other than exactly what he found.

It makes Dan feel kind of vulnerable, realizing PJ knows him and Phil well enough to know they’d be somewhere together, but, when he doesn’t immediately shut the feeling out, he realizes it isn’t actually a negative feeling. He feels seen.

While it’s not the same as how Phil so intimately _gets_ him, his chest still warms with fondness for his friends; even if they don’t understand the full extent of his feelings, they know there’s nowhere he’d rather be than with Phil.

“What brings you lot over here?” he asks, trying his hardest to not get distracted by Phil’s thumb rubbing circles into his skin. It’s not the most intelligent thing he could have asked; PJ and Chris are both wearing swimsuits, and they’ve already started to take off their flip flops, placing them next to Phil’s. Hopefully his question will at least distract them from the fact that Dan’s shoes are suspiciously absent.

“We’ve missed tons of opportunities this trip to play here,” Chris says.

“Especially after Phil insisted we camp near the river,” PJ adds.

“Hm, what?” Phil blinks and looks at PJ, like he hadn’t been paying attention until he heard his name. Dan smiles – it seems he’s not the only one preoccupied by the zing of electricity where their bodies touch.

“We were just saying,” Chris recaps, “we’re going to have to squeeze all of our watersports in now.”

Dan and Phil just briefly glance at each other but that’s enough to send them both into a fit of giggles.

Chris rolls his eyes. “Not that kind of watersports, you idiots.”

He and PJ both wade into the water. If they look closely, Dan knows they’ll be able to see Phil’s hand pressing against him. Neither he nor Phil make any moves to separate.

“At least we came in the proper attire,” PJ says, eyes Phil’s pyjamas and Dan’s sweatshirt-and-jeans combo.

Dan snorts. “You got that right.”

He wonders if Phil got the innuendo and just barely holds himself back from checking. When Phil jabs a finger into his side, Dan smiles.

“To be fair,” he continues, “Phil pushed me in.” It’s an excuse that conveniently happens to be the truth.

“You liked it,” Phil replies, offhandedly waving the hand that isn’t stroking Dan’s hip.

PJ is still looking Dan’s York hoodie. “Huh, you really did forget pyjamas.”

Dan shrugs. Close enough. ~~~~

He doesn’t think he imagines seeing PJ’s eyes flicker over to where he and Phil are connected or the eyebrow raise that follows. The upward twitch of PJ’s mouth is certainly anything but subtle. He turns to look Dan in the eye.

“You look good in his clothes,” he says earnestly, and Dan knows PJ means so much more than just the surface statement, knows he’s saying, in his own way, “ _You look good with him.”_

Inordinately flustered, Dan does his best to stammer out a genuine thank you.

“He looks good out of my clothes too.”

Dan gasps and whacks Phil in the chest.

Some things never change.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic comes with a very relevant gif set. See it and reblog [here](https://indistinct-echo.tumblr.com/post/616230464476348416/natures-call-summary-when-dan-goes-camping)!


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